


Rescues

by morrezela



Series: The Fairy Tale 'Verse [6]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 07:10:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrezela/pseuds/morrezela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fairytale AU: Jared chases after Jensen and Morgan, determined to stop Morgan’s treason. The sixth installment of the Sorcerer-Carpenter verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rescues

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: MORE SADNESS! (Also some fantasy style violence.)
> 
> Reading Staircases, Portraits, Journeys, Hopes and Betrayals first is advisable for the full impact of the story. You can figure out what’s sort of going on without it, but it’s probably better in chronological order.
> 
>  
> 
> All mistakes you find are my own.

Whatever it was that awoke Jared from his slumber, it did it suddenly. There was no struggle for coherency nor was there a gentle, peaceful rise from his dreams. There was heart pounding terror and the feeling of urgency. It wasn’t pleasant, but then again, the way that he’d been put to sleep hadn’t been either.

The last thing that he remembered, Jensen was planning on leaving with that traitor Morgan. Jared had tried to stop Jensen. They knew he had cursed the queen, and they needed to undo the evil that Morgan had cast. But there was another force at play, one that Jensen wouldn’t speak to Jared about. The sorcerer had always been tight lipped about everything, but this had seemed different.

No. Jared had known for certain that it was different. He had seen the desperation in Jensen’s eyes and the underneath that had been something akin to hope. It wasn’t quite that emotion though. It was too tinged with sadness and pain to be hope, but it was close enough to worry Jared.

In retrospect, trying to stop a man of Jensen’s power had been rather foolish. Jared was a carpenter. A large one, granted, but he was hardly a match for taking down one who wielded magical power. Brute strength was nothing in the face of mystical forces. He was fortunate that Jensen had only seen fit to send him into dreams instead of more permanently injuring him.

Now that Jared was awake, he should attempt to contact the king. It was his duty as a royal subject to report any and all acts of treason, and as much as he would like to give Jensen the benefit of the doubt, he was clearly following after a man who had admitted to coming against the crown. There was the chance that Jensen had a plan. Perhaps he had seen deeper into Morgan’s treachery than Jared had, and was attempting to further unearth the baron’s corruption.

If that was the case, then Jared should still contact the king. Baron Morgan’s magic was strong. Certainly, Jared had not the skills to combat him, but there might be others in the king’s court who could assist Jensen. Proud warriors and loyal knights would be better suited to the task of battling such a duplicitous man than Jared would be.

But even as he pondered of what he should do, Jared’s mind turned away from the thought. Lying to himself would bring nothing but frustration. The instant that he was free from the room that Jensen had imprisoned him in, he knew that he would follow after the two magic users. It was a foolhardy plan, but Jared had never been known to do anything but follow his heart. It was either his greatest asset or his worst failing. 

The door to the room was a heavy oak one secured with bands of decoratively forged iron. There was no escaping from it without either fire or an axe. But there was a window. It was small but unguarded. Doubtless Jensen had assumed that Jared’s bulk would never fit through it. Or he presumed that the fact that the window was far above the ground would keep Jared from attempting foolish acts such as dangling from the sill and throwing himself at the precariously staked, thorny vines that Morgan had curling up the side of his stone home.

But Jared had not grown up in the comforts of a palace. Scratches and bruises were common enough even for a man with a merchant for a father. Heights had never truly scared him, and the urge in the pit of his stomach was enough for him to overcome thoughts of his death as he escaped from his pretentious jailor’s cell.

It was not difficult to follow Jensen’s trail. The townsfolk paid attention to where their baron’s went, and neither Morgan nor Jensen had made any attempt to hide their travels. And why should they have? A baron and the king’s very own sorcerer should have nothing to disguise. To cloak their departure in the dead of the night would likely have brought more suspicion rather than less.

To his utter shame, Jared stole a horse. It was one of Baron Morgan’s steeds, dappled grey, and sturdy looking. It was not a normal act for him, but there was no way that he could hope to chase after Jensen without the aid of a horse, and he knew not where his own steed had been stabled.

Jared also stole an axe and a hatchet from Morgan’s workers. They were perhaps not the best of weapons to choose, but he had no training with swords or ability with staves. The tools of his trade would at least be familiar in his hands should he have to defend himself. He refused to think upon the concept that he might have to attack one of the two men.

Morgan and Jensen had followed the merchant travelling paths on their journey. It made Jared’s pursuit easier, but it also meant that they were much farther ahead of him than he had hoped. The trails were smooth and well groomed. They would not have had many obstacles to overcome, and the knowledge only spurred Jared to ask more of his mount.

It was to the horse’s good fortune that the trail abruptly stopped in the small town of Verkilshire. The town baker told him that Morgan and Jensen had stopped there to buy supplies and then headed out into the woods. Desperation took hold of Jared at the news.

While his living was made with wood, he was no woodsman. The lumber he worked with was brought in by other men. Lumberjacks and traders would come to barter with him or more often one of the senior carpenters of the palace. Jared did not gather his own supplies with anything other than a good tongue for negotiating and a pocket full of the king’s coins.

In his youth, Jared had spent time in the forests. He knew enough about basic survival and how to hunt and gather, but tracking men was a different story. The woods were not the ones of his childhood home. He knew not the landmarks or the pitfalls of the terrain. His hope dwindled at the thought of the task that was ahead of him.

Then the sky lit up with darkness. Ugly, yellowing greens and deep, bruising purples seemed to come to life in the clouds. They writhed and snapped in the air, great tendrils of what could only be magical power. The townsfolk cowered in fear. Some ran. Jared swallowed back his own terror and took off into the forests, chasing the evil like a madman.

His imagination came up with a thousand different scenarios. Each one was worse than the one before, but they all had Morgan and sometimes Jensen standing in the middle of the storm of evil, conjuring horrible deeds and hideous monsters. Jared knew not what he planned to do when he reached the center of the storm. Perhaps he would throw himself upon Jensen’s mercy should he be aiding Morgan. Or if Jensen were coming against the evil baron, Jared might attempt to become a living shield for the sorcerer.

There was no set plan in his mind, but when he came upon the actual scene, all of his imaginings were for naught.

For there in the middle of a gigantic pool, were Morgan and Jensen. They were battling against what Jared’s disbelieving eyes told him was one of the mysterious Veldeer. Her pearlescent coat was streaked with ugly, throbbing veins of evil magic. Her eyes were crazed, and her lips bled as she cast incantation after incantation. Behind her, a tree writhed and curled as if it were made of whip leather instead of solid, comforting wood. The tree’s roots seemed free from any soil. They slithered along the surface of the water like a nest full of serpents.

Jared was no magic user, but he could tell easily enough that there was a connection between the female Veldeer and the tree. Enough tales of the magical properties of wood and water had been spun for him that he could guess that the tree was enabling the magical storm.

Green wood had never been Jared’s specialty. The master craftsman assigned to teach him often referred to his skills in that area as ‘hopeless.’ But Jared’s weapons were an axe and a hatchet. There was never a clearer sign to him about his future than the fortuitous choice he had made in selecting his blades.

It was easy for him to wade through the water towards the magical plant. His height ensured that the pool never made it above his chest, and the Veldeer witch didn’t even notice his approach. Her hateful eyes were focused on Jensen and Baron Morgan.

Getting close to the trunk of the tree proved to be somewhat more problematic. The roots were dangerous in their movement. They were no less strong than that of any other tree, and stung mightily whenever they crashed into Jared’s body. By the time that he managed to clamber unsteadily upon one of them, he was past bruised and into battered.

Close to the trunk of the tree, the roots moved less. They shifted under the balls of his feet, but it was nothing like the vicious movements that the tips made. It made his balance difficult, but not impossible. Jared took barely a moment to get accustomed to his precarious positioning before he began to chop.

He expected that he would be noticed almost immediately, so he swung as hard and as mightily as he could, determined to cause as much damage as possible with what time he had. The way that the trunk twisted, he had thought it would be difficult work. He had imagined his blade bouncing off like it hit a pile of soft linen and leathers instead of solid wood, but it struck into the tree like it would any other timber.

The thrashing in the water grew more tumultuous, and the splashing of water drowned out any of the shouts that might have been cast his way. He could hear voices, but whether they were shouting spells or making inquiries about his sanity, Jared did not know. He only knew that the water being thrown up onto him was getting progressively colder. He knew that the splinters from the wood were digging into his flesh as they flew away from his chops. He knew that he was both freezing and bleeding, but he didn’t stop.

No direct attack came for him though, and in the back of his mind this worried him. Surely Morgan and Jensen couldn’t be doing so good a job defending him that the Veldeer hadn’t attempted to dislodge him from the tree. But even when that concern occurred to him, Jared had no other choice but to continue his efforts. He had committed to his plan, and he had to see it through. By the time that the trunk finally gave way to Jared’s attack, his arms were sore to the point of numbness. His entire body ached, and his breath was coming in pained, strained gasps.

The view that was afforded him when the trunk was no longer obstructing his field of vision was horrible. The Veldeer’s coat had lost all of her white shine. It was black and purple and green and yellow. Her skin moved like her blood was bubbling inside of her, and Morgan was physically grappling with her, restraining her.

Jared’s eyes searched for Jensen, and he was not difficult to find. The sorcerer’s cloak was whipping around his beautiful face as if it was the man’s personal war banner. His cracked lips were moving with purpose, and a horrible vortex was opening in front of him.

There was no way for Jared to know for certain what was happening, but something inside of him said that Jensen was working for the side of righteousness. That same something said that Jared was about to witness Jensen’s attempt at becoming a martyr. It wasn’t logical. Jared had no proof to say that he was correct save a throw away comment that Morgan had made about Jensen making a sacrifice.

Between one breath and the next, the vortex grew exponentially larger. The world seemed to shift inside of it. Incomprehensible pictures and views of the kingdom flashed in its swirls, there one moment and gone the next. It was disturbing and frightening, and from the way that Jensen’s thighs tensed, he intended to throw himself inside of the damned thing.

The decision to move wasn’t truly one that Jared made. It was instinct, pure and visceral and completely uninhibited by logical thought. Jensen’s screams were drowned out as Jared shoved him out of the way and threw himself into the vortex in his stead.

Pain flared inside Jared as if the swirling winds were actually inside his body, mashing together his innards like the cook liked to puree the potatoes back at the palace. It was excruciating. What was worse was the way that his mind spun into confusion. Things he thought he knew were wrong. That which was impossible seemed right. He was being driven into madness.

There was a dull roar in his ears as the world seemed to rend itself in pieces around him. He could hear Jensen’s screaming his name, his voice full of tears and torture. He could hear the gurgling last breaths of the Veldeer as Morgan finally gained the upper hand on her and slit her throat. Then, blessedly, there was silence. For a moment there was nothing, no pain, no tears. Just nothing.

Then life roared back in blaring, horrible vividness.

Jensen was cradling Jared’s head in his lap. Hot tears were splashing down on Jared’s face as misery came down upon the man.

“Why? It was supposed to be me,” Jensen mumbled. “Why did you do this?”

Jared raised a shaking hand to wipe away the tears from that beloved, familiar face. Never would he have dared such a thing before. Never would it have been appropriate. It still was not, but with death being imminent, he doubted it would be held against him.

“Because you are my prince,” he whispered, eyes closing as he had no energy to keep them open any longer.

He barely felt the brush of Jensen’s lips against his own before all was gone.


End file.
